


The Bad Touch

by vienn_peridot



Series: Citrus Basket [14]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Plot, Awkward Boners, Fingerfucking, Fisting, Hand Jobs, Humanformers, Lady!Wing, Mer!Drift, Merformers, Mutual Masturbation, Octo!Ratchet, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Tentacles, Tribadism, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wing accidentally rubs Drift up the wrong way during a physical exam.<br/>Everyone thinks the notoriously hostile Mer is angry, but Ratchet knows better and goes to sort him out.<br/>Of course Wing just HAS to walk in while they're going at it.<br/>*cues cheesy music*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bad Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was spawned by someone on Tumblr saying 'what if there were some places on a Mer that get them really turned on when you touch them'.  
> I'll see you all in hell, mate.
> 
> Notes:  
> [Mer Language]

# Bad Touch

 

Wing had no idea what happened.

Drift was calm enough now that it was considered safe to work with him unrestrained in the water. Some of the Mer’s injuries still needed careful monitoring to make sure the fine scales grew in properly and the scar tissue didn’t impede his movements, so she had been combining that necessity with a language lesson and the continuing work of getting him used to being touched. From what they could understand he’d had very little contact with others in his life that hadn’t hurt and everyone –Wing and Ratchet in particular- had been trying to replace that negative association with better ones.

So one moment she was trying to convince the Mer to stop hissing his sibilants while checking the heavy scarring at the base of his secondary dorsal fin, absentmindedly pushing one of Drift’s hip spurs away from her leg and the next she was knocked on her ass as Drift bolted for the deeper part of the observation pool in a flurry of fins, spray and churning water. Panicking co-workers dragged Wing from the water while Drift was curled into a ball as far away from her as he could possibly get, fins fully extended and trembling as he glared at her with the pupils of his two-toned eyes blown wide, shrinking the bands of red and blue iris to thin little lines of rage.

Once the shock wore off Wing realised that he hadn’t actually hurt her. There wasn’t so much as a scratch from his spines or the tough edges of his fins. Despite that, she was still hustled away and Drift was left in the observation tank, fins quivering. She managed to glace back over her shoulder and thought he looked confused.

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Drift was glad these humans didn’t understand some of the finer points of Mer body language. If they knew what he _really_ felt right now he’d never be allowed to see Wing again.

He coiled around himself in the corner of the tank, cursing the stupid clear walls and lack of hiding places as arousal pulsed through him in time with his heartbeat. If he was back in the isolation place or his own corner of the larger tank complex he would be able to take care of himself without anyone noticing. As it was, he was stuck. These prudish humans with their alien social customs made anything even remotely related to physical pleasure taboo. Even the slightest hint that he wasn’t angry like they thought and he’d _definitely_ never be allowed to see Wing again, let alone be touched by her.

The delicious memory of those soft, clawless hands on his body made him shiver. Just for a moment he allowed himself to indulge in imagining what they’d feel like elsewhere, moving over his body with the intent to bring pleasure instead of the medical exam she’d been doing.

 _That was a_ bad _idea_.

All it did was make his situation worse and Drift ground his teeth, glaring with genuine anger at the human –not Wing- who brought his lunch. He ignored the dead fish until the currents created by the tank filters brought them too close and he lunged upwards, snatching them and throwing the stupid things as far and as hard as he could.

One of them landed at Wing’s feet. The human had entered the room when he wasn’t paying attention and stood just inside the door, watching him with a worried frown on her soft-featured face. Her yellow eyes caught the light and Drift froze, mesmerised.

 _Pretty eyes. Mer eyes_.

Drift’s fins flared and rippled, silently begging her to come closer, inviting her to touch.

“Go away.” He snarled, hoping he sounded angry and not painfully aroused.

Wing’s frown changed to a sad look and he crushed the urge to apologise.

 _I don’t apologise to humans_.

“Ok. I’ll come say goodbye before I go home.” Wing’s voice was full of acceptance.

Drift watched her smooth dancer’s movements as the human collected up the fish he’d thrown and left, carrying them with her fingers hooked through the gills in a way that almost made him purr with approval.

_She would make a good mate. Why are humans so stupid?_

His eyes lingered on the sway of Wing’s hips as she left, the movement so evocative of the act of mating that Drift became aroused enough for his sheathe to evert from his body.

_Damn it!_

Burning with frustration, Drift spent the rest of the day fuming in the corner of the tank, pretending to be angry in the hope that it would get him returned to a tank with somewhere to hide so he could take care of his issue without offending human propriety.

To his intense displeasure his plan didn’t work.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about Wing’s touch and her walk and her beautiful Mer-coloured eyes, which just made everything _worse_.

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Ratchet knew exactly what had happened as soon as Wing told him about the incident with Drift. He had deliberately riled the finned Mer up with touches to and around his lower dorsal fin many times since they’d gotten closer. Many Mer had a predictable reaction to having the area stroked and Drift was definitely no exception.

A plan started to form in the octomer’s mind as he chatted with Wing, trying to feel out the situation and reassure the human that she hadn’t offended Drift while trying his best not to give the game away. He was very glad Wing couldn’t read the brief pattern of arousal that flowed over his hide every now and then. As well as the more common erogenous spot, Drift also had vestigial hip spurs that could turn him into a desperately horny mess in no time at all if you knew how to play with them.

_And I do. Oh, yes I do._

“So, is Drift back in his home tank or the isolation unit?” He asked casually, watching Wing attack her hair with a towel.

“Neither.” Her voice was muffled but perfectly understandable. “He’s been acting really aggro so nobody wants to risk pissing him off even more by moving him. Sedation is out of the question, too. It’s too big of a breach of trust at this stage.”

Tentacles writhed and knotted in a gesture of frustration that was similar to a human facepalm. Wing missed it, face appearing from within the folds of the towel just after Ratchet had gotten control of himself.

“I don’t get it, though.” She gave him a look that made Ratchet want to tell her the truth, if only to remove the hurt and confusion from the human’s face. “If he’s not angry then why is he acting like that?”

Ratchet sighed with a fluttering of gills and swam over to the edge of the pool, stretching out to gently encircle one of Wing’s wrists with the end of a tentacle.

“Probably just having a strop for the sake of it.” Ratchet let the subsonics the human liked fill his voice as he tried to comfort her. “Don’t worry Wing, he’ll get over it.” 

Wing put her free hand over Ratchet’s tentacle, holding it gently. She gave the octomer a small smile as he gave her a reassuring squeeze, contemplating the water still dripping from her pale hair.

“I suppose. Thanks, Ratch.”

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

By the time the day staff had gone home Drift was reconsidering the effectiveness of his plan. Instead of being moved somewhere with more privacy he was _still_ in the observation tank. They had taped some tarpaulins up around a corner so he had the _illusion_ of privacy, but someone could just walk around the corner without warning and see anything he did so there wasn’t much point in trying to take care of his little problem.

He hadn’t been able to get his sheath to withdraw into his body cavity so he’d been forced to move very carefully to keep the humans from noticing the rather obvious bulge partway down his body. Not that the humans didn’t know what it was, but they’d make a fuss and get all awkward like the last couple of times he’d been bored and horny so it was less irritating all round for Drift to just pretend he was sulking.

Night staff were quieter than the day people and didn’t poke around as much, but Drift knew from experience that any vigorous or sustained movement –like the kind needed to deal with his state of excitement - would have them coming to check on him to make sure he was alright.

He stretched out, belly-down along the floor of the tank and hissed quietly when his hip spurs brushed the bottom of the tank in just the right way to make his problem worse. Drift’s inner passage rippled and his shaft started stiffening within his sheath.

 _Stupid, stupid,_ stupid _._

Trying to wiggle so he was a little further above the tank floor just ended up dragging the protruding nubs of his hip spurs over the textured rock-stuff of the tank floor. It almost felt like tough Mer-hide. Drift’s his hip spurs flexed and he arched without thinking, pressing his belly and sheath into the floor before he realised what he was doing and forced his long body to stillness, fins twitching irritably. He was seriously considering giving up the charade and just going for it, to hell with the rules of this place - when a familiar subsonic rumble reaches his ears.

Drift jacknifed and ended up hanging in the water, face-to-face with a familiar fanged grin. Ratchet was clinging to the outside of the tank, red and white pulsing in time with his rumbling laugh. There was a wet trail on the floor showing where he’d come from, leading back out through the door and likely leading towards his home tank.

All Drift could do was watch in confusion as the octomer hauled his malleable body up the side of the observation tank and flopped into the water with him.

[I heard you had an _incident_ today.] The octomer said, colours rippling sensuously over his body and tentacles. [Got a bit of a problem?]

Drift hissed and flared with real anger, glaring at the octomer.

[What the fuck do _you_ think? I’ve been stuck in here all fucking day.] The finned Mer snarled, flexing his hands at his sides with claws extending and retracting, trying to slice the water.

[I know that. It’s why I came to give you a hand, if you want one. Or a tentacle.] Ratchet’s subsonics changed, dropping lower to a pitch that Drift could feel soothing him despite unwillingness to _be_ soothed. [Got so many of them, it’s hard for humans to keep track, you know.]

 _…Good point_.

By now Drift was swaying in the water, flirty little movements accented by fully-extended shivering fins that focused on the octomer as Ratchet moved with his own slow, undulating glide towards him.

[ _Please_.] Drift moaned. [I’m so fucking horny I swear I’m about to start jerking it right here and screw what the humans think.]

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Ratchet shook his head and sighed water from his siphons, close enough now to press his belly up against Drift’s and feel the hot bulge of the aroused Mer’s extended sheathe and the prick of hip spurs against his own softer flesh.

[You could have just _asked_ to be shifted back, you know.] He said, wrapping himself around Drift.

[Yeah, right. You try doing that with a semi.] Drift groused, his phallus extending from his sheath as Ratchet stroked his secondary dorsal fin with careful tentacles. [It’s either uncomfortable as hell or feels so good you blow a load all over the harness. No thanks.]

The octomer carefully moved their bodies so they were curled together in the sheltered corner of the tank, his back to the room so he was shielding Drift with his own body and the writhing mass of his tentacles.

[You’re so crude sometimes. I’m glad Wing can’t understand much Mer.]

[You can be just as crude.] Drift wrapped his arms around Ratchet and arched to get a better grip on the octomer with his hip spurs. [Remember what you said the first time I grabbed you with these?]

He flexed the vestigial limbs to emphasise his words. Ratchet wrapped one of his hands around the finned Mer’s erection and began a gentle rhythm.

[Yes. And I still mean it.] Ratchet let Drift twitch side-to-side a few times before holding him still. [Pity we can’t have some _real_ fun tonight.]

[Who says we can’t?] Drift’s words were broken by clicks and low moans of pleasure as Ratchet continued to pump his shaft. Ratchet felt one of the Mer’s hands trail slowly around his side and down towards where the flesh of his waist thickened and became tentacles. [I can tell you’re really getting off on this, you crazy squid. How about I help you with _that?_ ]

By that, Drift obviously meant the cloacal opening that he pressed his fingers against. Ratchet groaned low in his chest with a surge of infrasound, one tentacle finding Drift’s opening and circling it teasingly.

[I know you’re perfectly capable of jerking yourself off, so how about you get on that and I see if you can still take my fist?] Drift suggested with a smirk.

Ratchet pressed his belly as close to the other Mer as he could, looking Drift directly in the eyes and grinning as he increased the pace of his hand and pressed the very tip of a tentacle inside the finned Mer’s cloaca. It was hot and slick, a testament to Drift’s state of arousal.

[Put up or shut up.] The octomer growled, slowly spreading his fingers to force Drift’s passage wide.

Suddenly Drift froze, the tips of two fingers just barely inside the octomer’s opening.

[Don’t fucking tease me now, you little shit.] Ratchet growled in a mix of Mer and English, wrapping a tentacle around Drift’s wrist and trying to force the fingers fully into his body. [Get your hand inside me right now or so help me I’m going to keep you on the edge _all fucking night_.]

Drift’s eyes went wide, his fins clamped down and he stared at something behind Ratchet. White sclera was visible all round his striped irises as he said one strangled word that stopped Ratchet faster than a bodyslam from Dai Atlas.

[ _Wing_.]

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Wing had returned to the WRC intending to grab the textbooks she’d accidentally left in the break room, but the trail of water leading from Ratchet’s suspiciously empty tank added another task to her evening.

 _He’s gone wandering_ again _. One of these days I_ swear _I’m going to put a leash on him._

The wet path led to the observation room where Drift was being kept. There were sounds coming from the room that made her heart beat faster and lit a warm fire low in her belly that made writing up this assignment sound a lot less fun than spending some quality time with herself when she got home. She knew those sounds well but before doing anything else Wing had to make sure that everything was alright and they were actually doing what it sounded like and not _actually_ fighting. Drift was only half a betta-type, after all.

Wing took a deep breath and promised herself she’d only look just long enough to confirm her suspicions. Unfortunately she peeked around the doorframe just in time to see Ratchet’s tentacles part enough to not only give her a clear view of his fully-extended hectocotylus but also the way Ratchet gripped Drift’s wrist with a tentacle and pushed the Mer’s fingers out of sight, probably into his cloaca. Happy patterns flowed over the Octomer’s body and his infrasonic rumble of purely sexual pleasure flowed over Wing, making her aware of wetness starting between her legs.

 _Oh fuck_.

Before she could make her escape Drift saw her and froze. She recognised the Mer short-form of her name before Ratchet stopped too, the red in his skin paling to a sickly pinkish tinge. The octomer glanced over his shoulder, giving her a slightly embarrassed look.

“Don’t let me stop you. Um, I can go.” Wing knew they’d be able to hear her perfectly fine. She hugged the textbooks to her chest like a shield and wondered vaguely if she should pick up some spare batteries on the way home.

 _I should_ not _be this turned on. They’re my_ friends _, dammit!_

Drift shrugged his fins in a ‘do what you like’ motion and to Wing’s surprise he mouthed ‘this is all your fault, brat’ at her with exaggerated motions before beginning to blatantly to pump his fingers into Ratchet’s passage. The octomer’s colours flashed and rolled, he snarled something at Drift that the finned Mer ignored, smirking deviously at Wing as he continued the steady motion of his fingers, mouthing ‘your fault’ at her again.

“How the fuck is this _my_ fault?” Wing demanded loudly, forgetting where she was.

That had Ratchet dragging a protesting Drift to the shallower end of the tank at the same time as one of the night staff came to find out what was going on. Somehow between them Wing and Ratchet managed to explain what had happened earlier in the day and smooth things over. It ended with Wing and Drift supposedly making up after their ‘fight’ and the finned Mer demanding a shoulder massage in a way Wing couldn’t exactly say no to; not given how hard it was to get Drift to let people touch him. By the time the night person left Wing was up to her waist in the water, carefully kneading the base of Drift’s neck, blushing furiously and wondering what the hell was going on.

“Is this one of those social things?” She asked in a low voice, painfully aware of the fact that Drift was still knuckle-deep in Ratchet and had been this whole time.

“Subgroup thing.” Ratchet hummed. “I was checking on Drift because it sounded like he was rather, ah, _tense_ , and could use a hand.”

“I see.” Wing said. “Drift, you’re not angry with me?”

“Not you, angry at stupid human rules.” The finned Mer sighed and nuzzled his head against one of Wing’s forearms. “Like Wing. Wing is subgroup, but humans don’t… give hand to subgroup.”

Wing thought about it for a minute or two, trying very hard not to look at the water-distorted shape of Drift’s erection that lay twitching against his belly, clearly visible in a gap between Ratchet’s tentacles. The octomer had been hiding it but for some reason he chose now to let Wing see it.

“You two can keep going if you want.” Wing said, feeling her face burn. “Um, I don’t mind. If you don’t mind. Um… yeah.”

Ratchet looked at her with blue eyes gone very wide, obviously thinking hard. Drift purred happily and said the Mer word that translated as ‘subgroup’ in a low, sensual voice that made Wing’s breath hitch and stoked the slow burn of arousal building low in her belly. She looked down at what she was doing, focusing on the back of Drift’s neck and the traceries of old scars on his skin. The water shifted against Wing’s legs and a large red hand came into view, catching her chin and turning her head so she was looking at Ratchet.

“Are you sure you’re ok with that?” The octomer asked, “I know humans do things much more slowly.”

Wing smiled and felt her heart beat faster as she risked pressing a little kiss to the octomer’s thumb, keeping eye contact as she did so.

“Definitely ok, I promise. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

The way Ratchet’s pupils widened and he seemed to sway closer was intoxicating; almost as intoxicating as the low, breathless way he thanked her with infrasound pulsing through his voice.

“Give Wing a hand, too?” Drift asked cheekily, leaning some of his weight onto Wing so he could tilt his head back to look up at her with fins spread wide and shivering. “Seem… _tense_.”

The way Drift said the last word and the blatant sway of his hips clearly meant that the Mer could tell that Wing was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. She bit her lip, a large part of her mind racing to figure out how they could get away with it while the rest sort of stalled and demanded to know what the hell she was even _doing_ in the tank with the two horny Mer.

“I-if you want to.” Wing’s mouth and body made the decision for her without her brain’s conscious input. “Um, I _can_ wait until I get home.”

Ratchet’s deep infrasonic rumble turned Wing’s legs to rubber and she gasped, holding tight to Drift’s shoulders in order to stay upright. Movement in the water focused her attention on Drift’s pelvic fins and the area between them where a tentacle coiled sucker-side-out around his erection and another one was obviously probing the entrance to his cloaca. The firm shoulder muscles under her hands started to move and she remembered that while one of Drift’s hands was planted firmly on the bottom of the tank near her feet, the other one was still somewhere inside the mass of Ratchet’s tentacles.

 _And inside Ratchet. Oh_ fuck _._

“No need to wait.” Drift said, carefully nuzzling his head back into Wing’s stomach, careful to avoid poking her with his fins. “Pat _please?_ ” he drew the last two words out sweetly, red-and-blue banded eyes wide and guileless as if this situation was completely innocent and not him asking for Wing to give him fin rubs while Ratchet rubbed him off.

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

[Get to it, Ratchet.] Drift said, purring happily and half-closing his eyes as Wing’s soft hands stroked slowly over his headfins. [I’ll get her next time.]

[If there _is_ a next time.] Ratchet muttered sourly, but obligingly sent an exploratory tentacle up Wing’s leg. Her thigh muscles tensed in his grip, skin tasting of salt and adrenaline under his suckers.

“Are you ok?” He asked, watching Wing bite her lip and shiver, golden eyes half-closed and hair blazing silver in the glare of the overhead lights.

“’M fine.” She said in a normal voice, and then whispered in a rush. “ _Please don’t stop_ ”

Extremely glad of his ability to effortlessly multitask his many limbs, Ratchet continued to carefully massage Drift’s erection as well as his own, sliding one hand down to Drift’s cloaca as the finned Mer slipped a third finger in beside the two moving slowly and deliciously inside his passage. The tentacle sneaking up Wing’s leg took the bulk of Ratchet’s attention, carefully manoeuvring up through the leg of her shorts only to encounter a mass of soft hair he hadn’t expected.

“Wing, are you _not wearing any underwear?_ ” Ratchet couldn’t help asking the human to confirm this, even though he could feel for himself that she clearly wasn’t.

_Deep currents, isn’t that something humans think is a bit… naughty?_

The blush that accompanied her headshake told the octomer everything he needed to know. Drift purred on a definitely lustful note, swinging his hips in Ratchet’s hold.

“Naughty naughty Wi-ing.” The finned Mer said in a low sing-song. “Not wearing undies. _Bad_ girl.”

“Shut up, you.” Ratchet growled, roughly thrusting two fingers into Drift’s cloaca. The opening gave easily; inside he was softer and far slipperier than he had been before Wing arrived. Drift moaned throatily and shivered, mouth dropping open as Ratchet began vigorously massaging his internal passage. “That’s better.”

Something distracted Ratchet as he tried to set an easy rhythm between squeezes to himself and Drift and the hand in Drift’s breeding passage. He looked at Wing to find her yellow eyes fixed on what he was doing to Drift and she was shifting her hips, rubbing against him in time with the thrust of his fingers into the finned Mer. Ratchet  could taste/feel something sharp and tangy soaking the dense hair around the tip of his tentacle. All three moved as one for a few moments then Ratchet hissed and stiffened as Drift forced a fourth finger into his passage, stretching the octomer almost too fast. When he could concentrate again Ratchet continued exploring the human, finding that Wing’s external parts were very, _very_ slippery and far softer than he’d thought they would be.

 _No suckers_ ; _that could hurt her_.

His careful investigations had the human gasping and thrusting against his tentacle, high-pitched little whimpering noises coming from her throat as her motions deliberately rubbed a hot, firm little point of flesh over his skin as she gripped Drift’s shoulders for balance. As for Drift, his head was tipped back, mouth slack and apparently finger-fucking Ratchet on autopilot as he devoured Wing’s expression with his eyes. Ratchet couldn’t blame him, the look of concentration combined with the flush and the way Wing was biting her own lip made his hectocotylus throb with interest.

Experimentally, Ratchet pressed against that strange, firm little nub of Wing’s flesh and was rewarded with a beautiful little cry that made both Drift and himself shiver. The finned Mer’s passage pulsed around his fingers, trying to pull them deeper inside Drift’s body and Ratchet wanted to replace those fingers with his pulsing hectocotylus, or else get the other Mer’s erection inside him so they could fuck to the gorgeous sound of Wing’s pleasure. Instead of suggesting that wild and likely unwelcome fantasy to the other two, Ratchet curled the end of his tentacle over on itself and pressed the smooth side up against Wing, moving with and against her until he found the rhythm and pressure that got the best reactions from the yellow-eyed human.

Drift’s eyes were still fixed on Wing, mouthing a litany of praise in near-silent Mer under the sound of her gasps and whimpers as he withdrew from Ratchet just enough to ease his thumb alongside his fingers before pressing his hand deep into Ratchet’s passage in one smooth motion. The sudden pressure and fullness in his breeding passage took Ratchet by surprise and the octomer came undone with a low, throbbing rumble of infrasound. His limbs locked up as ecstasy overtook him, body clamping down hard around Drift’s fist and simultaneously expelling a sperm package from his hectocotylus into the waiting grasp of his tentacles.

The deep infrasound cry of Ratchet’s orgasm sent Wing into her own. She bucked and shook against his tentacle, hunching forward until her lips almost brushed the sharp ridge of Drift’s nose, yellow eyes open wide and unseeing. Her breath came in short, hard gasps as a fresh well of tangy fluid flowed down over Ratchet’s tentacle, saturating the taste receptors in his suckers.

Drift inhaled the breath of Wing’s pleasure, eyes fixed on the human’s ecstatic expression as he determinedly fucked himself on Ratchet’s orgasm-locked limbs until he finally groaned and shot a cloud of milt into the water of the tank, fins shivering and cloaca determinedly trying to suck the octomer’s fingers into his brooding chamber.

They relaxed against each other, basking in the afterglow. Drift was purring contentedly, more relaxed than Ratchet had ever seen him and apparently happy to let the human lean on him until she got the use of her legs back. Ratchet helped support Wing, carefully rubbing at the round marks his suckers had left in her flesh during his orgasm, doing so despite the human’s reassurances that she was fine and they didn’t hurt. He’d known Wing long enough to not entirely believe that claim; she was a lot like Drift in that.

Eventually Wing left them, solemnly promising Ratchet first that she’d talk with him the next day about ‘this’, whatever this had been. By the time she went Drift was already asleep, firmly wrapped in Ratchet’s tentacles with his arms around the octomer’s middle in a display of affection the finned Mer would never allow himself while awake.

As he settled himself to join Drift in sleep, Ratchet found himself hating all the barriers that stood between himself and the yellow-eyed human.

 _I wish… I wish Wing was a Mer_.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES:  
> ~This is based very, VERY loosely on Onigil's 'Mer Flipflop' AU. Notable differences being Wing and Ratchet's relationship, Ratchet's lack of paralysis and Wing being an unrepentant tomboy more like lady!Wing in my fic 'Of Pens and Swords'. In this AU this is the first time Wing and Ratchet do anything sexual, even though they've been friends for ages.  
> ~The Mer in my AUs are sentient and sapient. They have one physical sex and no cultural parallel to the human concept of gender.  
> ~Like the octopi they are based on Octomer have a complex nervous system that extends into their tentacles, giving the limbs a limited functional autonomy. They can also taste through their suckers. Octomer have a partial internal skeleton that is mainly cartilage and a rudimentary pelvis.  
> ~This mer!Drift is a hybrid betta+shark Mer. Thanks to some genetic anomalies he has vestigial limbs like some snakes/cetaceans and his eyes are banded red-and-blue, thanks to central heterochromia.


End file.
